Fudge Cupcake Murder (Hannah Swensen, #5)(75)

Halloween morning came in with a yowl, at least ten minutes before Hannah's alarm clock was due to go off. Moishe was hungry and he wasn't the type to suffer his hunger pangs in silence. Hannah pulled on her slippers and shuffled to the kitchen while she was still half-awake. It was best not to be fully alert when one had to boil liver before daybreak.

Hannah stumbled to the stove and turned the burner on high. She'd set a pot of water at the ready before bed last night. Then she poured a cup of coffee, sipped it until the water boiled, and dropped in the pieces of liver she'd cut up the previous night. When they turned an unappetizing gray color, she scooped them out and put them in a frying pan with oil and the rest of the ingredients.

In less than five minutes, Moishe's omelet was ready and Hannah scraped it into his food bowl. She checked to make sure the stovetop exhaust fan was on its highest setting, poured herself a second cup of coffee, and sat down at her kitchen table, deliberately turning her back on the culinary creation she'd made for her feline. The scent of liver first thing in the morning made her stomach lurch and roil. If the twinges of nausea she felt were anything like the morning sickness Andrea had complained about, she should have been more sympathetic.

It didn't take Moishe long to eat his breakfast, about one-fourth the time it had taken her to prepare it. There was something wrong with this equation. Hannah rinsed out the pan she'd used to boil the liver, the frying pan that had held the omelet, and Moishe's bowl, and stuck them all in the dishwasher. It was already partially loaded with dishes from the previous night. There was the pot she'd used to cook the rice, the bowl and top of the food processor she'd used to whip up the egg and pulverize the shell, and the knife she'd wielded to cut up the liver. Once she'd gathered up the implements she'd used to cook Moishe's breakfast and the containers she'd used to store the egg and the rice in the refrigerator, the dishwasher was almost full. Hannah poured in the soap, set it on wash, and stood there shaking her head. This was crazy. She didn't eat breakfast unless she went out and the only dish she used in the morning was her coffee mug. Yet here she was at five in the morning, washing a full load of dishes she'd dirtied by cooking breakfast for her cat!

The phone rang and Hannah poured another cup of coffee before she walked over to answer it. There was only one person who called her this early. It had to be Delores calling in to give her report. When Hannah hadn't been able to find out where Lonnie was vacationing by asking his family or his friends, she'd tapped her best resource and recruited Delores and Carrie who had promised to research Lonnie's whereabouts on the Lake Eden gossip hotline.

"Hello Mother," Hannah answered. Answering the phone that way had become almost a tradition. Hannah knew her mother would miss these morning squabbles if she simply said hello.

"I wish you wouldn't answer the phone that way, Hannah. What if it wasn't me?"

"Then I'd say, Sorry, I thought you were my mother. And they'd say, That's all right. And then they'd try to sell me some stock over the phone."

Delores laughed. "Still… you shouldn't presume. Think how embarrassed you'd be if it was someone important and you called them Mother."

"You're not someone important?"

"Of course I am. It's just that… never mind," Delores said, giving it up with a sigh. "How are you this morning, dear?"

"Not so hot. Do you know the phrase, Wake up and smell the roses?"

"Yes, dear. I've heard it."

"Well, this morning it's, Wake up and smell the liver."

"The liver?"

"That's right. Doctor Bob put Moishe on a new diet. I just cooked breakfast for him and it smells awful."

"Well, open the windows, dear. And use some of that air freshener I gave you. It's scented like an English garden."

"Right," Hannah said, wrinkling up her nose. She'd used the air freshener, and if the manufacturer's claim was accurate, she'd be sure to give English gardens a wide berth.

"I always used it when your father made corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick's Day," Delores said. "He insisted on making it every year and none of us liked it."

Hannah laughed. It was true. More of the corned beef and cabbage had gone down the garbage disposal than into their mouths. But even though Hannah didn't care for the meal, the custom pleased her. It was exactly as her dad used to say; everyone was Irish on St. Patrick's Day.

"Did you find out anything about Lonnie, Mother?"

"Not much." Delores sighed so deeply it came out as a whoosh over the line. "Bridget doesn't even know where he's gone. She told me to check with Rick."

"Did you?"

"Of course I did. Rick doesn't know either, but he thinks Lonnie must be with a girl."

"Did Lonnie tell Rick that?"

"Not exactly, but he refused to say where he was going. And since Lonnie usually tells Rick everything, Rick thinks he was going to meet a girl."

"That makes some kind of sense." Hannah leaned back and took a sip of her coffee. "Any candidates?"

"Only one and that's impossible."

"Which one?"

"Your sister. Rick thought that Lonnie might have gone to the Cities to see Michelle."